


abandon all the bones

by sleepinnude



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt watched Blaine sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	abandon all the bones

Kurt won’t lie; he loves looking at Blaine. He loves watching him perform and watching his face change and watching the way he moves his hands when he talks and the slip of his eyebrows when he’s teasing Kurt and the lilt of his smile when they’re settled close, foreheads resting together. And he knows he might be a little guarded in his expression sometimes. Not always, but when regarding Blaine, well… Perhaps he was only noting it because of the difference of Blaine looking at him.

Because whenever he catches his boyfriend watching him, every detail of his love is inscribed over the features of his face. It hits Kurt dead-center of the chest, sometimes, because he has never really had someone look at him like that. It makes his insides freeze-up and his mind skip tracks like a broken record. And it’s the oddest sensation because he loves this boy back just as much. Because he might always zig when Blaine expects him to zag but Blaine can catch him off guard with the simple set of his eyes and it doesn’t make Kurt giddy anymore, just deeply and intensely sated and aware, on a near-physical level, of how much he wants this boy in his life forever.

And maybe Kurt doesn’t show it written over his face as plain as the weather forecast, like his boyfriend. No, he does it in these discreet moments, these intimate moments captured in the quiet heat of Blaine’s bed. Moments after they’ve been together in whichever capacity, even if that capacity is nothing more than lying together, close and kept, with whispered words trailing the short distance between them to tell of wishes in futures and secrets in pasts. Moments when the artificial and manufactured warmth inside Blaine’s room has lulled him to sleep and Kurt is nearly there with him but not quite, caught instead in that muzzy, blissed-out state where everything is in soft-focus and low-key lighting and the boy you love and who loves you back is laying next to you.

It’s these moments that Kurt settles in to just watch Blaine, to study him uninterrupted and feel the gradual, slow swell of how much he loves him rise to choke him around the throat in a way that’s pleasant in its abandon. To just trace this beautiful boy from head to the dip of hip, that last visible span before the melted-solid of sheets interferes.

And, something akin to Blaine’s cartoon-colored heart-eyes, he marvels.

He tracks over the curls come undone and the way they frizz a little and overlap here and kink out there. Remembers the silken soft feel of them between his fingers and laments briefly for their so often trap of gel but quickly forgets it for the ache of familiarity in burying his nose against Blaine’s temple. He follows the sleek line of Blaine’s forehead, skips over the shadowed fan of eyelashes, down the bridge of his nose and the arch of those cheeks, colored faintly now. He trails and lingers over lips, lips that Kurt has felt on so many different maps of his own skin it’s unreasonable and it’s only unreasonable really in how he never wants that to stop. Lips that have smiled with him, frowned with him and spelled out cautious repetitions of tales past and sang love songs and given declarations of love and admitted things that Kurt thinks no one else knows.

There alone is a bafflement for Kurt. They’ve shared so much of each other. In literal and physical through sex, true enough. But the sex was… Well, it was exactly how his father had hoped it would be, as strikingly odd a thought that may be. Sex had been a way to get closer, emphasis on the superlative, because Kurt had already been so close to this boy and had known so much about him and he had known so much about Kurt and sometimes, still and even more, it felt like they were a single entity. Especially in the way Kurt thought he might explode from how much he felt for Blaine. How it was always ebbing against his borders and rolling off him like pheromones.

But then he leaves that behind to line the gentle curve at the underside of Blaine’s lower lip and the way it bows over in a healthy pout and Kurt imagines him among Botticelli’s angels or something like that, with the way of the subtle part as Blaine breathes sleep in and out. He gets transfixed on that for several seconds, on the rhythmic rise and fall of Blaine’s chest as he just breaths easy and without thought. Just breaths and dreams and Kurt breaths with him, but perhaps at a jerkier pace because he still can’t believe it sometimes and so he has to remind himself through imperfections that this is still real life and this is still really happening to him.

And that’s when Kurt can’t take it any longer. That’s when his chest does that swelling expand and his throat clenches funny and tight and he has to, absolutely must, slide down from where he had himself propped up. Has to slide down to settle alongside Blaine and cup against him, curve to meet knees and hips and chest and to bring an arm around Blaine’s waist and press his face into the base of Blaine’s neck a moment, nosing into the tight half-curls there briefly, pressing a short kiss to to his temple, near the corner of his eye.

And Blaine has been sleeping but only dozing really, still close to the surface of wake, so he shifts and stirs and mumbles something and turns toward Kurt a little, body arching into him and up. Kurt hushes him. Kurt calms him, stills him, quiets him, go back to sleeps him. Blaine obeys, resting back against Kurt now, collapsing, and Kurt follows him into sleep but not before committing this to memory.

He doesn’t plan on ever having the occasion to forget this, but he wants always to remember it still. To remember Blaine against him and Blaine against his pillow and the swell of Blaine’s hip peeking from above the sheets and the brush of Blaine’s toes against the inside of Kurt’s ankles and the smell of Blaine around him and the feel of Blaine’s heart pressing against Kurt’s through skin and clothes and bones. 

He wants to commit this to memory, wants to remember it along with every other night to come, nights that he plans on spending with this beautiful boy by his side, in his bed.


End file.
